


Ricochet

by misura



Category: White Collar
Genre: Community: collarkink, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Recovery, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-23
Updated: 2010-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 15:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal gets shot during a case. Peter takes it rather badly. Elizabeth spins damage control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ricochet

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally written in March 2010 for a prompt at collarkink, but never posted there (or elsewhere) for reasons now lost in the mists of time, so to speak. (in other words: I don't remember them.)
> 
> prompt words taken from 10_hurt_comfort and setting very much halfway first season-ish

Peter's second mistake was that when he saw Trevor Smith reach into a drawer while babbling something about how they couldn't possibly be here to arrest him, he didn't think _'gun!'_.

He'd met the man several times - often enough to form an impression. Nothing in Smith's behavior or speech had ever hinted at his being the kind of person who kept a gun at the office. An unhealthy amount of cash, yes - his lawyer's business card, certainly. A fake ID ... maybe, but Peter wouldn't have bet any money on it; fake IDs smacked of criminality, after all, and (as Smith had assured him several times, always with a slightly nervous smile), Trevor Smith _despised_ criminals. It was, he'd told Peter, why he'd become an accountant instead of a lawyer.

"Gun!"

Jones was the one to yell the word - Peter just barely registered the expression on Smith's face as he looked around the room, wild-eyed, looking for who-knew-what, before the sound of a shot.

Which was when Peter had realized his first mistake: bringing Neal.

 

"I want my lawyer."

[01. _Injured_ ]

Smith had dropped the gun the moment after he'd fired it. Peter thought he might have done something he'd have regretted later if it had been otherwise; as it was, Peter tried to think charitable thoughts. Unless Smith was a much better actor than Peter knew, he genuinely hadn't meant to shoot anyone. He'd simply panicked and forgotten guns had things like safeties.

Beating someone up for being an idiot wasn't worth Peter's career.

"Is Neal going to be all right?" Peter wondered why Jones was asking _him_ ; it wasn't as if Neal couldn't speak for himself after all. Plus, the medical team that had taken care of Neal's injury was still there - one of them had talked Cruz into letting him take a look at the bump on her head. "Sir?"

Funny, Peter thought, how Neal was 'Neal' while he was 'sir'. "I ... I don't know."

Jones gave him a look. "Perhaps you should find out, sir." Again with the 'sir'. On the other hand, it was Peter's fault Neal had gotten injured. The least Peter could do was hear for himself how bad it was.

"I ... yes." His hands were shaking, Peter noticed with a bit of surprise. Silly. Neal was the one who'd gotten shot, not Peter. Neal should be the one whose hands were shaking.

"Do you want me to call your wife, sir?"

It actually took Peter five seconds to connect those two words ( _'your wife'_ ) with 'Elizabeth'. "She's going to kill me." She'd told him several times that if he ever, _ever_ got himself killed in action, she'd murder him in his sleep. He'd always considered it just another way of her saying _'I love you'_.

 

"Neal's going to be fine," Elizabeth said, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Are you?"

[02. _Tears_ ]

Jones hadn't waited for Peter's okay to call her. Peter _thought_ he was grateful for that - or should be, anyway. Usually, after any kind of assignment involving firearms, Peter called her himself, just to talk.

He didn't really want to talk now, although on a rational level, he knew it would be the smart thing to do - and he'd always liked smart, hadn't he?

"I'm not the one who got shot."

That was the way it should have happened, really. Peter had been the one standing closest, the one making Smith feel threatened enough to go for a gun first and ask for a lawyer second. Then Neal could have been the one sitting here, a bit shocked, a little scared - slightly more inclined not to take stupid risks the next time, maybe, to be content with waiting outside.

"No, you're not," Elizabeth said softly.

"He could have been killed."

"He didn't. He's going to be fine, Peter." She'd told him that already. Presumably, she thought he'd forgotten already. "They're taking him to the hospital, keep him there overnight, just in case there are any complications. Are you coming along?"

"I ... I think I'm going to sit here for a little longer." Peter cleared his throat. "Let things settle a bit."

She left him one of her handkerchiefs. She'd always known him entirely too well.

 

"I find it rather insulting when people treat me like an idiot," June informed Peter.

[03. _Sick_ ]

Perhaps he ought to have sent Elizabeth instead - or taken her along, have her explain things to June while he packed some of Neal's clothes. Neal would make a fuss, of course, complain about how Peter hadn't folded his suits properly. Peter discovered he kind of looked forwards to that conversation.

"Do I amuse you, Mr Burke?"

"My apologies," Peter said quickly. "Not at all. I was just thinking about Neal." It seemed to be the right sort of answer; she appeared to unthaw a little.

Neal still insisted his getting injured hadn't been Peter's fault whenever Peter brought up the subject, which was regularly. Peter wanted to talk about things - talk about how he'd made a mistake, and how he wanted Neal to keep him from making one the next time this kind of situation came up.

"So. The truth, if you please." June's expression told Peter she didn't particularly care if it pleased him or not; she wasn't going to let him inside Neal's domain unless he gave her a satisfactory answer.

"Neal got ... hurt. Shot," he amended, seeing her face. "Neal got shot. My wife and I would like to take care of him at our home." _'May we have your blessing?'_ would probably be a bit too much, so Peter swallowed that part. "Please." It never hurt to say 'please'.

"Mr Burke, I'm not Neal's mother." Peter hoped that was a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "You don't need to convince me your intentions regarding him are honorable."

Funny, but Peter rather thought that had been the entire point of their conversation so far. "So it's all right with you if I collect some of his clothes?"

"By all means. I wouldn't want the poor man to be forced to walk around naked - or wear one of _your_ suits." June offered him a sweet smile.

Peter thought he should feel a lot happier at having found someone who had no trouble whatsoever holding him responsible for Neal's injury.

 

"I think Peter's expecting a bit of emotional blackmail from you," Elizabeth said.

[04. _Emotion_ ]

Neal blinked. "What?" It had been almost a week since Smith's arrest and the closest Peter had come to being his usual self had been when he'd returned from June's with some of Neal's clothes.

"You know: you make him feel guilty over having gotten you shot and then try to get him to do something for you to make up for it."

Neal hadn't had the heart to tell Peter he hadn't folded the suits correctly, and that they'd really need to be ironed again for Neal to wear them, assuming he wanted to look properly sharp-dressed.

"He seems to be doing a pretty good job at making _himself_ feel guilty." It didn't make much sense to Neal. Obviously, he hadn't _enjoyed_ getting shot, but ... it had happened. There wasn't anything Peter could have done, given he'd been at the other side of the room.

Elizabeth sighed. "You're a lousy victim, you know that? You got _shot_ , Neal. It's okay to be a bit shaken, or scared, or even just admit that it hurts."

"Would that really help?"

"Mm. Let me put it this way: either you give him something to do, or he'll drive us both crazy." Elizabeth leaned forwards and deposited a quick kiss on his cheek. "Think about it?"

 

"As soon as you're better, you're going back to prison."

[05. _Fear_ ]

Neal froze, a spoonful of soup halfway to his mouth. "W-what? Why? What did I do?"

"You got shot," Peter snapped. He'd have thought it was obvious. It was _not_ being in prison that had put Neal at risk, in the line of fire. Prison might not be any fun, but at least Neal would be safe there. "You could have been _dead_ right now, Neal."

"I think I might like that better than having you send me back to prison." Neal looked shocked and hurt, as if he'd just been shot. Except that Neal _hadn't_ looked shocked or hurt when he'd been shot. "I thought - "

"We don't _need_ you." It was easy to forget that sometimes, to forget Peter and his team had been doing just fine before they got a 'consultant'. "We can solve crimes without you."

"I thought you _liked_ me."

Neal simply didn't seem to understand what this was about. "I do. That's why I'm sending you back. To keep you safe." Prisons weren't entirely safe either, of course; things happened. Peter could keep an eye on things though, make sure Neal would be really safe. Maybe he could even get the sentence reduced, in view of all those cases Neal had assisted with.

"Peter. I _do not_ want to go back to prison. If you really liked me, you wouldn't send me back there."

"It's for your own good." Neal looked close to tears. Peter turned away, telling himself he was right.

 

"My husband is an idiot," Elizabeth declared solemnly, raising her glass.

[06. _Drunk_ ]

"A workaholic," Neal supplied. He felt wonderfully light-headed, as if any moment now, he could simply float away and leave all his problems behind. (Although right now, he didn't quite remember what problems those were again; he was drinking excellent wine with a beautiful, smart woman, so what problems could he possibly have?)

They clinked glasses. Elizabeth gulped down the contents of her glass in one go. If Neal were to kiss her, she'd probably taste of the wine - sweet and strong enough to make his head spin.

"I think we should elope." Elizabeth filled their glasses again. "Doesn't that sound like a great idea?"

Neal thought it did. He'd always wanted to run away with a beautiful woman or man, someone for whom he'd leave everything else behind. But. "But then Peter would be sad."

"Fuck Peter," Elizabeth said, then giggled. "Do you want to?"

Neal tried to give that question the consideration it deserved. Thinking made his heart hurt though. He didn't want to think about Peter right now. "You're very beautiful," he said instead.

Elizabeth beamed, turned sad again. "Does that mean you won't run away with me?"

"I can't. Because ... because ... " There had been a reason, he was sure of it. "Because of Peter."

 

"What did you and Neal _do_ last night?"

[07. _Jealousy_ ]

The empty bottle - correction: bottle _s_ \- were a fairly clear hint, but Peter asked anyway. Neal's injury had almost healed, and he wasn't on any medication as far as Peter knew. Medically, there was no reason why Neal and Elizabeth shouldn't have enjoyed themselves while Peter was spending a late night at the office. He knew Elizabeth disagreed with his decision to send Neal back to prison.

"We got drunk and had amazing sex." Elizabeth was nursing what Peter suspected was at least her fifth cup of coffee that morning. Neal was probably still sleeping.

Peter managed a weak chuckle. "Really?"

"The question you should be asking is: _'why didn't you wait for me?'_. And then I could reply that we didn't wait for you because you're being an idiot."

"We talked about this, El."

"About your being an idiot? I don't think we did."

Peter didn't want to be the kind of man who was glad to be off to work in the morning because that meant he wouldn't have to see or talk to his wife for most of the day. "He almost _died_."

"I don't think you _are_ an idiot, really. That would mean I made a mistake when I married you. All the same, I'm smart enough to know I'm not infallible."

Translation: _'think about it some more'_. It was more than Peter had expected to get. "That about you and Neal having had sex was a joke, right?"

Elizabeth smiled at him. "Do fantasies count?"

 

There was a Neal-shaped absence at the office these days.

[08. _Lonely_ ]

Peter kept telling himself it was ridiculous; Neal hadn't been working with them _that_ long. Neal had a way of being present though, a way of making you notice he was there. (Peter suspected Neal also had several ways of making you _not_ notice he was there, but that was another matter; at the office, Neal's presence had been felt. And now it wasn't.)

Jones was more than capable - Cruz, likewise. They worked well together. They were solving cases.

 _'Do fantasies count?'_ Elizabeth had asked. As if that mattered. As if it was at all relevant to the situation that Neal was, yes, smart and attractive.

 

"You're sending Neal back to prison?"

[09. _Fight_ ]

Jones exchanged a look with Cruz. They both looked surprised. "He almost got killed," Peter said curtly, hoping his tone would make it clear the matter wasn't one he wanted to discuss.

"You're punishing him because someone shot at him?" Clearly, the hint had been lost on Jones.

"It's _not_ punishment."

"Neal will think it is," Cruz sounded like she thought she knew Neal better than Peter did.

"Look," Jones said, "we made a mistake with Smith, all right? We _all_ did it, Peter - not just Neal. It's not fair to take it out on him."

"I'm not taking _anything_ out on Neal. I just want him to be safe."

Cruz wrinkled her nose. "With all due respect, I hardly think sending him back to prison is the best way to accomplish that."

"Exactly." Neal would be so very pleased to hear he'd managed to have Peter's own team take sides against him, and with Neal.

 

"Don't you think you're being a little too harsh on yourself, love?"

[10. _Love_ ]

Peter looked up from the report he'd taken home with him, then blinked. "Um." He could remember the last time Elizabeth had worn that dress. "What's the occasion?"

"Oh, I just figured it out." Elizabeth was obviously aware of the effect the dress was having on him. Any moment now, Peter suspected his brains would simply shut down.

"Figured what out?"

"Why you want Neal to go back to prison." Elizabeth smiled and reached for the report.

Peter allowed her to take and put it on the table. "I already told you why."

"Hm-mm. And you were so very convincing." With the report out of the way, there was nothing left to put between him and Elizabeth - even if Peter had wanted to keep her at a distance.

"What are you saying, El?" He could feel the warmth of her body, even through his shirt and her dress. It was intoxicating and yet not enough. "Neal's safety is important to me. He almost got killed."

"I'm saying you should stop punishing yourself. Stop pushing away someone who loves you, just because you feel you don't deserve his love." Elizabeth abruptly backed away. "Stop being the idiot I know you aren't." Peter reached for her almost involuntarily. "Forgive yourself, Peter. Make amends, if you feel you have to. I'm sure Neal has plenty ideas as to how you could do that."

Peter's imagination had some ideas, too, apparently. "It's not that simple." Very unrealistic, highly improbable ideas.

"Yes, honey, it is." She looked over his shoulder. Peter didn't turn. He knew who had to have been standing there, listening. Unnoticed by Peter.

"You're really not angry with me?" Neal sounded like he didn't quite believe it.

"Of course I'm not angry with you!" Elizabeth reached for his hand, squeezed it. "How could you even think I'd be angry with you?"

"Don't yell at him, honey," Elizabeth murmured. "It's undermining your argument."

Peter forced himself to take a deep breath. "I'm not angry with you, Neal. I was never angry with you. I am sorry if you got that impression."

"So you're not going to send me back to prison?" Neal asked, in a too small voice.

"Nobody is _ever_ going to send you back to prison, Neal," Elizabeth told him.

Peter opened his mouth to point out that actually, if Neal were to commit a crime, he would almost certainly be sent back to prison. Elizabeth firmly put her foot down on his. "Absolutely," he said instead. Neal was smart; he'd know there were rules.

"And I can pick out some new clothes for you?"

"Yes, you can." Again, Elizabeth spoke up before Peter could formulate a reply. "Can't he, honey?"

Peter mumbled something. If wearing new clothes was the price of Neal's forgiveness, then he supposed he could live with that and consider himself lucky.

"And I can sleep in the same bed as you and Elizabeth?" All traces of uncertainty had vanished from Neal's expression now.

"Sleep would be optional," Elizabeth said. "But yes."

"Tonight?"

Elizabeth smiled at Peter. "Honey?"

They both knew it wasn't really a question.


End file.
